


Hold Me Like I'm More than Just a Friend

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: El Internado | The Boarding School (TV)
Genre: M/M, What's new, marcos is an idiot and it takes him a long time to figure things out, that awkward moment when Iván aka "Reckless is my middle name" is the voice of reason, this is literally based off of one line of dialogue i should be a s h a m e d, threw some lowkey roque and caye in there bc I'm a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I based this off of one snarky line of dialogue and the following discussion of that specific line with one of my friends. Frankly, I can't believe myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Like I'm More than Just a Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silverstaineddreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstaineddreams/gifts).



> Title from Adele's "All I Ask"

Marcos snatched up his khakis from where they lay strewn across his bed. He barely missed tripping over his own feet as he shook into them, but not by much. Buttoning them with one hand, he plucked his white tank top up in the other, readying to tug it on over his head.

“Marcos,” a small voice called from the doorway.

He jerked at the sound of his name, eyebrows riding up his forehead in a silent acknowledgement. Paula stood just outside the door, her golden blonde hair hanging limply down her back and framing her tired face. Aside from her shoes being on the wrong feet, you couldn’t tell that she had dressed herself that morning.

“Good morning,” he smiled at his sister, slipping the ribbed top over his head.

“Can you braid my hair?” she asked, batting a long strand from her eyes.

He sighed, realizing his head had gone through one of the arm holes of his top. He righted it, talking to Paula as he completed the process. “I’m running late, so not this morning.”

“No one else knows how to, though,” she frowned, swinging her arms back and forth.

Marcos struggled to find the right words to ease the deep tug of his sister’s lips. “I know, I’m sorry, tomorrow morning, I promise. Ok-“

There was a loud, exasperated exhale from across the room. “Come here.”

The Pazos siblings turned in unison, the same confused look plastered across their features. Iván was stretched across his bed, wrinkling the covers even though he had already made it that morning. One blue sweater clad arm was bent, laying across his eyes to block the light out.

“What?” Paula asked bluntly, scrunching her nose up.

“Come here,” Iván repeated, beckoning her with his free hand. “I’ll braid your hair for you.”

Paula squinted at him, seemingly sizing him up. Iván couldn’t see her, but he must have felt her burning eyes on him. He gave a breathy laugh, before lightly commenting, “I see your mistrust for me is now poisoning the youth, Marcos.”

Marcos had a troubled look on his face as he turned to his sister. “Just this once, please?” he pleaded.

Finally, after two achingly slow moments, she nodded. Iván sat up, expression bored as Paula approached him. She offered him her hair tie, and spun around so he could reach her hair.

“At least now your brother has a chance of making to class on time. Though, if he’ll have his uniform on the right way is still in question. You’ve still got your head in the arm hole, by the way.” Iván said pointedly, aiming the last sentence at a dumbstruck Marcos.

Marcos looked down at himself, and as if someone hit his fast forward button, he whipped his shirt around the correct way.

Iván snorted under his breath, before gently gathering the top layer of Paula’s hair. He made a base braid of two rotations, before beginning to add extra after each loop. She wriggled slightly, but mostly held still as his fingers nimbly assembled her hair into a tight, uniform line.

He clapped his hands together, before leaning forward and whispering something in her ear. She looked down at her shoes, giggled slightly at her own mess up, and plopped onto the floor to swap them around.

When she was done, she ran her fingers over the back of her head, feeling the tell-tale bumps of a braid. She grinned brightly, popping up off of the floor, only to wrap her short arms around Iván’s neck. “Thank you,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

He froze momentarily, arms awkwardly hanging at his sides. 

“You have to put your arms around me,” she whispered encouragingly.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. He returned her hug quickly, letting go only a couple seconds later.

Marcos pulled his sweater on over his collared shirt, patting his hair back into place as he spoke. “Come on, you need to get to breakfast,” he said to Paula, outstretching his hand to her.

“Is Iván walking with us?” she asked, grabbing Marcos’ hand.

Marcos fumbled, unsure of what to say.

Iván sighed begrudgingly. “I’m right behind you, shorty,” he said, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, and tucking his hands into his pockets.

Paula grinned widely, tugging on Marcos’ hand to get him to move faster. Her short legs were surprisingly fast, which meant that Iván had to forgo his usually languid pace to keep up, trailing far enough behind the siblings that he had deniability, but close enough that when Paula turned to look for him, he was within eyesight. When they arrived in the cafeteria, Marcos crouched down to press a kiss to Paula’s cheek and wish her a good day.

Iván, on the other hand, reached his hand out as he passed her, where she enthusiastically returned his high five, before darting off towards her table.

Iván was through the breakfast line quickly, Marcos having been stuck talking to one of their classmates. Iván plopped down at his group’s usual table, barely registering the way that Vicky was frowning in his direction. She elbowed Carol, hissing something under her breath.

Iván lazily looked up at them, toast halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“What was that?” Carol asked, flicking her hand in the general direction of the entrance.

Iván raised his eyebrow questioningly, taking a bite of his toast as he waited for elaboration. 

“You interacted with a child and they didn’t run away screaming or crying?” Vicky supplied carefully.

Iván frowned slightly. “I realize this is hard for all of you to digest,” he said, gnashing his teeth. “But I am, surprisingly, capable of being a decent human being.”

“Do you have some sort of daily limit, or is there a reason that you can’t be like that all of the time?” Roque called from the other end of the table.

Iván rolled his eyes. “Needs to be worth it, which none of you are,” he said, as if it was painfully obvious.

“Whatever,” Roque muttered under his breath, turning back to his curly-haired boyfriend.

Marcos arrived at the table a few seconds later, either too oblivious to feel the tension, or not caring enough to acknowledge it. Iván moved his leg from where it was propped up on the only remaining chair at the table without so much as being prompted, which let Marcos slide in beside him.

Carol’s eyebrows drew together, looking almost concerned at Marcos.

Marcos, seemingly feeling eyes on him, looked up from his food. “Did I miss something?” he asked around a bite of food.

Carol shook her head. “No. Good morning.”

 

\-----

 

A few days passed, and aside from Tuesday, when Iván nearly got into an altercation with another boy their age over some snide remark the other had said, the days mostly passed without incident.

Friday morning, Marcos rolled out of bed 7 minutes late. While 7 minutes didn’t sound like a lot, it was, in fact, enough to send him into a flurried panic.

Paula came knocking barely two minutes later, her shoes surprisingly on the correct feet, and her hair limply shrouding her face.

“Marcos,” she called, approaching her older brother tiredly.

He sighed, already knowing what was coming next, and trying to figure out how to curb the disappointment that was sure to come in just a few seconds. Before he could rattle off an, albeit poorly crafted, excuse, his roommate spoke up.

“Come on, shorty. Your brother’s gonna be late otherwise, and somehow, that always trickles back to me. Can’t say I’m particularly fond of a day cleaning the library.”

Paula, who had been even more skeptical than her brother the first time this offer was extended, shrugged her shoulders, and easily glided towards Iván. She extended a hair tie to him, and spun, without even having to be asked.

Marcos couldn’t afford the extra minutes that it would take to stare dumbfounded, so he thought about it while he hopped the rest of the way into his khakis, and jammed his arms into all the correct shirts and sweaters. When he turned back to his sister and tentative friend, he found her in a fit of giggles, and him with his trademark lop-sided smirk dangling on his lips. He said something else to her – Marcos couldn’t hear what – which made her laugh even harder, before tying off the end of her braid and patting her gently on the head.

She excitedly thanked him, which replaced his smirk with a short, genuine smile, before she darted off towards Marcos. She grabbed him by the hand, babbling about something, as she pulled him out of his dorm and down the hall.

Marcos turned to call goodbye to Iván, but instead found the boy trailing a foot or so behind them, hands jammed in his pockets.

He almost said something, about how he didn’t have to walk so far behind them, that he was more than welcome to join them, but something kept his jaw clicked firmly shut, and turned his head back around to face straight ahead.

 

\-----

 

After a week of general bad luck, and tinkering with his alarm clock – even enlisting Roque’s help for the latter – Marcos was pretty sure that he’d no longer be late.

He tested the hypothesis Monday morning. The sound of his alarm clock sliced through whatever remotely pleasant dream he was having, and violently jerked him awake. Unable to decide if he’s pleased by the fact or not, he sat up in his bed and decisively swapped his pajamas for the uniform.

Paula came in running, followed closely by Evelyn, and screeched to a grinding halt. Marcos grinned at them both, opening his arms for a hug. Paula obliged, pulling Evelyn along with her for a bone-crushing hug and a kiss to the crows of their respective heads.

“Ready for me to do your hair?” he asked, rolling his sleeves up.

She gnawed on her lip, casting her eyes up to meet his gaze. “I want Iván to do it,” she explained, clasping and unclasping her hands.

“Oh, okay,” he murmured, shock zipping through his body like a bolt of lightning.

Iván, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, looked up, astonishment written plainly on his face. He grinned – actually grinned – and something deep in Marcos’ stomach swooped at the sight. Iván looked to Marcos. That blinding grin being turned on him was enough that he had to look down at his feet, feeling his neck and ears heat up.

“May I?” Iván asked, gesturing to Paula.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, I actually need to, need to go do something, can you walk them to breakfast?”

Iván frowned, and Marcos mourned the loss of the grin. “Yeah, everything okay, though?”

Marcos didn’t stick around long enough to hear the question. He bolted from the room, stomach churning violently.

 

\-----

 

The next morning, Marcos awoke on time, disappointment digging its grimy claws into his chest. He didn’t know why, but when he rolled over and saw the time – actually four minutes before he had to be up – it sent a shudder of deep sadness through him.

He laid there, looking at the ceiling through sleep-matted eyelashes and yawn-induced watery eyes. He could hear Caye and Roque shuffling around the room – always up first and out of the room before Marcos even got out of bed, or Iván even considered waking.

The door opened, and he heard the two boys as they slipped out, a trail of laughter lingering behind in their wake. Marcos blinked hard, trying to ready himself for the day.

Latin quiz, math test, turn in last night’s homework, go to the library and find that book – those were the things he needed to accomplish. Which would be easy…if he’d just get out of bed.

Rationally, he knew that if he didn’t get out of bed in the next 3 minutes, his whole schedule would be off. Those 3 minutes would trickle down until he was darting through the halls with toast tucked in the pocket of his cheeks, tugging a sweater over his head – all because he was late getting up. It’s because he had a very precise and unique morning schedule, one that was delicate, and easily interrupted.

He heard Iván stir, slip out of bed, trip over himself heading towards the wardrobe, and curse when he accidentally stubbed his toe.

Fleetingly, Marcos entertains the idea that it’s endearing.

And then he violently turned to face the wall, praying that Iván would think he was still asleep, and wouldn’t investigate to find Marcos with burning ears and a guilt laden expression.

Minutes ticked by, Marcos trying to ease his breathing, and eventually falling in line with the gentle patter of Iván’s feet falling across the floor.

“Marcos!” two sharp syllables packed with a familiar brand of harshness.

Marcos stirred gently, moaning under his breath about how early it was to make it seem authentic.

“You’re late by,” he stopped, presumably to check the time. “Six minutes, c’mon, buddy,” and suddenly, there’s a warm hand patting his leg.

In the heat of the moment, the oddity that was Iván being aware of his schedule didn’t occur to Marcos – nor the fact that he knew that Marcos was late by six minutes precisely. Instead, he jumped to action, shuffling clothes around as fast as possible.

Iván finished getting ready and sat down on the edge of his bed, resting his chin in his head. He let his eyes fall shut. Marcos had once asked him why he always stayed in the room, even after he was finished getting ready. He had simply hummed in reply and walked off.

Marcos hadn’t ever asked again, figuring the boy took the extra time to doze.

Paula skipped in a few minutes later, not even bothering to stop and greet her brother, before crossing the room and pushing her hair tie into Iván’s free hand.

“Morning, squirt,” he mumbled, knowing who it was without opening his eyes.

She gave him a closed lip smile, and waited patiently as he combed his fingers through her hair to get out any initial tangles. “What are we doing today?” he asked, rolling the hair tie onto his wrist.

She held up two fingers.

“Two?” he asked, “I’m gonna need another t-“

She handed him the other hair tie, which had been hanging around her wrist like a bangle. 

He chuckled under his breath. “I guess you came prepared, then.”

He parted her hair down the middle, and brushed her bangs down so they didn’t get accidentally braided in. Marcos watched, slightly awestruck, as Iván quietly conversed with Paula. It was so…normal. They bickered back and forth easily, Paula chattering about what was planned for class that day, Iván asking questions here and there as needed, though, unlike most teens who spoke to her drolly, like they wished they could be anywhere else, Iván spoke to her like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, like he was in a desert and every word she spoke was water.

And Marcos knew that it was good for when people spoke to her like she was human, he saw how throughout the day it boosted her confidence, and kept a smile always at the ready at the corner of her lips.

It was just…Marcos never thought that person would be _Iván._ Of all people, the arguably roughest person he knew was the most compassionate to his baby sister.

Marcos used to consider it a fluke, something had gone wrong in nature’s code, and that little discrepancy produced, what most would call, the friendship of Iván Noiret and Paula Pazos. But he had watched the way Iván was with the other small children. He was nice to Evelyn, it seemed, because she was Paula’s friend.

But, he became extremely protective when the boy who liked to play pranks on Paula, Javier Holgado – or any of his friends – were around. It was odd, but for some reason, Iván had taken a liking to Paula, and treated her with the utmost dignity. On more than one occasion, Marcos had seen them walking the halls together, usually it was due to Paula trying to find Marcos himself, but running into Iván first, and knowing that he would help her find her brother.

It was odd, yes, but it was comforting too. Marcos liked knowing that there was someone that Paula trusted like she trusted him, that if he couldn’t be there for her, she felt safe enough to go to that person.

He just hadn’t ever anticipated she would take such a strong liking to Iván, or that it would be so good for her.

Marcos came to from his thoughts with fingers snapping just inches from his face. He blinked once, twice, and slowly his eyes focused. 

Iván exhaled through his nose, cracking a crooked grin. “You alright there?” he snorted.

“Hm, what?”

“Nothing, c’mon, I’m taking Paula to breakfast.”

“You’re what?” he asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“She hasn’t finished telling me her story so I promised she could tell me on the way to breakfast. Now come on or we’re gonna be late.”

Marcos nodded, following behind his sister and Iván, who clasped her hand tightly in his own. She talked rapidly, her words nearly melding together in her rush to get the story out. Iván listened patiently, and something about the scene made Marcos’ heart stutter in his chest.

 

\-----

 

Tuesday morning, Marcos waited ten minutes before getting out of bed, Wednesday he took a few extra minutes in the shower, and that night, set his alarm behind four minutes, Thursday he was almost late due to the four minute discrepancy, and Friday morning, he did the five math questions on his homework that he forgot about, apologizing profusely to Paula – who didn’t really seem to mind – as he did.

Marcos didn’t recognize the personal sabotage for what it really was. He made excuse after excuse for himself, Tuesday morning, he had a headache, so that’s why he stayed in bed so long. Wednesday morning, his hair was greasy due to having to skip his showers for two days to instead sleuth around the school with Vicky and Roque, so he had to wash it twice. And he set his alarm behind to see if he could shave a bit off of his schedule. Thursday afternoon, he was busy helping Caye with his birthday present for Roque, so much so that he forgot his math homework. And Friday morning he had to do that math homework.

So really, he had all the right excuses, and didn’t feel the need to dig any deeper into his motivations. He didn’t notice that maybe, possibly, he could be doing this for other reasons. 

Other things he _definitely_ didn’t notice were: The curve of Iván’s lips when he smiled genuinely, the way that his stomach flopped when Iván smiled at him, the way his heart sped up when Iván laughed, or hugged him, or basically existed within his general vicinity.

And then he did notice them, late one night while he was considering the ceiling with a scrutinizing eye.

But he tried desperately to write them off, or to shove them to the back of his mind where they wouldn’t bother him.

But finally, finally, one day it all blessedly _clicked._

 

\-----

 

Iván felt a soft tug on the hem of his sweater. He craned his neck around, finding Paula standing behind him with an unreadable look on her face.

“Hey, squirt,” he hummed, turning back around and patting the space beside him.

She plopped down, turning to look up at him. He rested his elbows on his legs, and clasped his hands together. “What’s up?”

“All the other girls in my class know how to braid because their Mommy or Daddy taught them, but my Mommy and Daddy aren't here, so they can’t teach me, so I thought that maybe you could,” she blurted, almost entirely in one breath.

“Woah, hey, slow down,” he said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Let me see if I got the gist of all of…that,” he said, motioning towards her with his hand. “You want me,” he pointed his finger at his chest. “To teach you, how to fix your hair.”  
She nodded.

“What about Marcos?” Iván asked.

She shrugged. “Yours are better.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her bluntness. And he definitely couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you before dinner, okay? Just stop by our room.”

She lept up, a bright smile lighting up her face. She tossed her arms around his neck and squeezed, bouncing happily as she did. “Thanks, Iván!” she yelled, already racing off.

He smiled to himself, brushing his hand through his hair. His hair. His short hair. Short. Not good for braiding.

He grumbled curses under his breath, standing up in one swift movement. He sent his gaze around the teeming hallway, searching for anyone of his friends. When he didn’t spot anyone, more specifically Carol and Vicky, who had the longest hair of their group – Caye if he was in a pinch – he set to trailing through the halls, looking for the girls.

Idly, he let his mind wander. Which wasn’t the best idea, but….

See, when Iván’s mind wandered, it usually ended up on one person. It used to be Carol, but they had had problems that they never really addressed until they had festered out of control and ate at their relationship from the inside out. Honestly, he was lucky that she had stuck around after all the shit he had put her through over the years.

But now, it wandered to Marcos.

Which was tricky, seeing as how technically, he was bound by his reputation to hate the other boy at least 87% of the time. The other 13% was left for life or death situations – of which they had had plenty – and early mornings when no one else was around.

“Hello?” someone called.

It took a minute for his vision to focus again, but soon he found Carol, with her wide eyes and pursed lips, just inches away from his face.

“Earth to Iván,” she called.

“He must have been thinking about something important, nearly tripping down the stairs like that,” Vicky commented idly, her arms wrapped around her books.

“What do you think it was?” Carol called back to her.

Iván rolled his eyes. “I was looking for you two,” he muttered.

“For?” Carol asked, at the same time as Vicky said, “No, I let you see my math homework last week, find someone else.”

“Gee, Vick, thanks. You’re such a great friend,” he snarked.

“Oh, why don’t you just-“

“What’s up?” Carol asked loudly, making sure to talk over Vicky.

“Look, I need you two to come by my room before dinner.”

“I feel like I’ve got something to do, sorry,” Vicky hummed, nose tilted slightly to the ceiling.

Carol rolled her eyes at her two friends. “We’ll be there.”

“This is why Carol’s my favorite,” Iván said to Vicky, as he slung one arm around Carol’s shoulders.

“Oh, I’m hurt, really, Iván, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she snarled.

“You two break it up,” Carol reprimanded, slipping herself in between the two. “What are we showing up for, exactly?” she asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

“My hair isn’t long enough to braid,” he explained, tugging at his short locks.

“An amazing deduction-“ Vicky began.

“Look, the little one asked me to teach her how to braid, and I need someone with long hair.”

“The little one?” Carol echoed.

“Paula,” he replied impatiently.

Vicky coughed, and for some reason, it was the funniest thing Carol had ever heard. They shared a look, one that sent unease striking through Iván’s body.

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Vicky grinned.

True to their word, the girls showed up thirty minutes before dinner. They sat on Roque’s bed and chattered between themselves, sometimes flicking their gaze to Iván, who was on his own bed. He shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, trying to work on his homework while he waited for Paula to turn up. Finally, ten minutes later, she made her way through the doorway. 

Iván sighed under his breath, but quickly rounded up all three of the girls. He sat on the floor in the middle of the room, Carol sitting in front of him. Paula sat beside him, Vicky in front of her.

First, he explained how to part the hair. He figured that a French braid would be too hard to start out with, so he simply explained to separate the hair into three nearly equal chunks for a beginner’s braid.

Her chunky, child fingers fumbled with Vicky’s thick hair for a few moments. Vicky turned and gave her a kind smile, before helping to guide her hands. Eventually, they were ready to begin.

He showed her how to hold the hair in her hands, reaching over to correct the positioning every so often. He slowly walked her through the process, crossing and uncrossing, answering her questions, and helping her to readjust her hand positions. 

A few minutes later, Vicky was sporting a sloppy, frizzing, but easily identifiable braid. She ran her fingers over it, and turned around to praise Paula generously. Carol joined in to give her a few tips, which Paula nodded seriously at, and locked away. 

Vicky told Paula that she was going to leave the braid in, which made Paula’s face light up like the sun. She began to ramble excitedly about how she wanted to show Evelyn. They all rose form the floor, the older kids stretching out their limbs which weren’t used to sitting on the hard flooring, and started heading towards the door.

Paula was the first one out. She darted off towards someone, but quickly returned, this time with her brother’s hand clasped firmly around her own. She pointed to Vicky and explained what they had been doing. Marcos admired the braid, but shot Iván a series of odd looks when he thought no one else was looking.

Vicky and Carol were looking.

They shared a look, and each took one of Paula’s hands, putting the young girl between them. Carol called over her shoulder that they were taking her to dinner, and would save them seats.

Marcos frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together when he looked at Iván. Iván opened his mouth, starting to say something. Marcos shook his head, almost to himself, and turned on his heel, jogging after his sister.

Iván stood alone, outside of his dorm room door, dejected. He quickly squared his shoulder, set his jaw, and pushed down the emptying hallway towards the cafeteria. He ate in silence, not daring to spare a glance to Marcos, who was sitting at the far end of the table.

Iván almost, almost, felt something over that. They had worked hard to become friends, but it seemed they were regressing back to what their relationship had been when they first met.

Which was fine. It was absolutely _fine._

 

\-----

 

Marcos was not panicking. He was definitely not panicking. Especially not over Iván, of all people. That would be, well….

Anyway, definitely not panicking over the possible feelings he hypothetically had for one Iván Noiret, and the – completely hypothetical – realization had no correlation with him walking in on Iván teaching Paula how to braid hair.

That’s just weird.

And a little bit pathetic.

Which is fine, because it definitely didn’t happen. So, problem solved.

Well, not exactly.

Okay, so, all lies that he liked to tell himself late that night aside, Marcos had unearthed a couple revelations about himself and his feelings.

(1.) He really liked Iván’s smile, and not in a “oh we’re friends, so it’s good to see you smile” kind of way, but in an “I would do anything to see you smile even for a fraction of a second, because it makes my heart beat a little faster and I kind of like it.” kind of way. (2.) That was, in fact, some heavy self-sabotage that one week, although the reasoning behind it was totally not what he had tried to excuse it as, but in fact, well, see #1. (3.) He kind of wanted to hold Iván’s hand in a non-friend way. (4.) He also wanted to kiss Iván in a non-friend way. On the lips. So, there was that.

All-in-all, it was confusing, and frankly terrifying on the account that Iván hated him 90% of the time. This lead to Marcos avoiding Iván for a total of four and a half days. Which wasn’t easy, seeing as how they lived in the same room, and were a part of the same friend group, and had all the same classes, and because apparently, every night before dinner, Iván had agreed to instruct Paula.

Turns out, the library is a great place to hide.

 

\-----

 

It all culminated on the afternoon of the fourth day. Marcos had accidentally found himself in their dorm room at the same time as Iván. When he went to leave, Iván stopped him. His jaw was clenched tight, and if Iván was any other person, Marcos would have thought that there was hurt in his eyes.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Yes.

“No,” Marcos said, trying to leave again. 

Iván stepped in front of the door. “If this is because I’ve been spending time with Paula and you’re worried I’m trying to steal your sister or something weird like that, I’m not-“

“No, that’s, it’s fine, that you spend time with Paula, I’m glad she trusts you,” then he thought about it and added, “that she trusts all of you, otherwise I’d feel weird about hanging around any of you, but really, I need to _go_ ,” he tried to push past him again, but he held his ground.

“Look, you’re obviously avoiding me for some reason. I’m not sure what I did, and I’m not going to apologize when I haven’t done anything wrong. So if that’s what you’re waiting for, I suggest you don’t hold your breath. So, either tell me what’s going on, or we can just continue with the weird tension.”

Marcos gulped whatever response he had down, realizing how close Iván had stepped. He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to keep his eyes trained anywhere that _wasn’t_ the other boy’s lips – which he was failing miserably at.

Iván shook his head, backing away to pace between the beds. “I don’t know what goes on in your head, but I thought we had made some progress. Not a whole lot, but enough where you could actually be in the same room as me,” he snarled, running his fingers through his hair.

“Iván-“

“No, I’m not going to let you drag this out. I don’t have the time or the energy for it, not when there’s all kinds of other shit to worry about in this damn school.”

“ _Iván_ ,”

“Marcos, I said-“

“For God’s sake,” Marcos hissed, surging forward and grabbing Iván by the face. He pressed his thumbs into his cheekbones, and curled his fingers around the backs of his ears.

“Can I kiss you? If not, just, just tell me no, and I’ll back off.”

Iván, with wide eyes, nodded, seemingly bewildered. “Yes.”

Marcos exhaled deeply, pulling him closer. 

It was awkward, they knocked foreheads and clacked teeth together, but somehow, it still left them both breathless. When they parted, Iván rested his forehead against Marcos’, keeping his eyes closed in fear that if he opened them, it would all disappear.

“You’re a really shit kisser,” he remarked under his breath.

“So are you,” Marcos replied, a small smile pulling at his lips as his eyes glided over Iván’s calm features.

 

**BONUS**

 

Carol sat with her back as straight as possible in the middle of her bed. Small fingers wove her hair into a simple braid. When the girl was done, Carol ran her fingers of the slick bumps.

“When’d you get so good?” she asked Paula with a small smile.

The blonde girl shrugged, but the mischievous look in her eyes told another story.

“Something you wanna tell us, Paula?” Vicky called from her bed. She was surrounded by old books they had borrowed from the library, trying to connect clues from the latest mystery.

“It’ll be a secret, right?” she asked, suddenly shy.

The older girls nodded in unison. “Of course.”

Paula wrung her hands nervously. “I kind of knew how to braid before I asked Iván, and after the first time he helped me, I figured the rest out on my own,” she explained.

Carol and Vicky shared a look. “So why’d you keep going back for help?”

Paula climbed down from Carol’s bed and went to sit behind Vicky, where she started to separate her hair for a tight braid. “Sometimes Marcos talks in his sleep,” she explained.

“About what?” Vicky prodded gently.

“Iván, mostly,” Paula murmured. “And he’s always looking at him like he likes him,”

“Well, they’re friends-“

“No,” Paula sighed. “Like he _like_ likes him.”

“Oh,” Carol said, her eyes widening, she hadn’t thought about the possibility that the younger girl would figure it out, let alone take action.

“Yeah, and it was getting annoying. He’s always told me that he’d never date anyone that I didn’t like, because I was the most important person to him, so I figured if he saw that I liked Iván, then he’d date him.”

Then, proudly, she added, “It worked.”

“What do you mean it worked?” The girls asked, Carol’s tone confused and Vicky’s sharp.

She shrugged. “I saw them kissing the other day when I went to see Marcos after class.”


End file.
